


Reach for Me in the Dark

by Janina



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, He can't do it, Jon is about to get married, Reconciliation, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janina/pseuds/Janina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon shows up on Sansa's doorstep the night before his wedding to Ygritte...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reach for Me in the Dark

"I can't do it, San."

Those were the first words out of Jon's mouth when Sansa opened her door to him. He was standing on her front stoop, looking a bit disheveled: his tie was undone, his suit coat was rumpled and his dress shirt was hanging over his dress pants. He looked a bit wet too, some of his curls clinging to his face.

"Have you been walking in the rain?" she asked, not sure why that was the first question she asked instead of 'What can't you do?' She had a feeling she knew already and that was perhaps why she didn't ask. She was stalling the inevitable, because she had _just_ been on the couch watching _Bridget Jones's Diary_ and really getting in touch with a mopey, depressed Bridget and a quart of Ben  & Jerry's Chunky Monkey. What else did one do when their ex-boyfriend and best friend whom they were still in love with was getting married the next day?

"I have," Jon huffed and dragged his hand through his hair, causing some of it to mat to his skull. "Can I come in?"

She nodded and stepped aside, her heart beginning to trip over itself. _This is what you wanted, Sansa, remember that,_ she told herself. _Don't run scared now._ It's just that she'd never thought she'd have it again. She wasn't really accustomed to getting what she wanted. 

Jon stood in her kitchen looking a bit lost, as though he'd never been there before and didn't know what to do. The reality was, he'd been to her house plenty of times. Millions. In fact, just the night before they'd watched a movie together. Sansa had tried to make it seem as though her heart wasn't shattering inside her chest while Captain America delivered some pretty great advice to the Avengers: If you get hurt, hurt em' back. If you get killed, walk it off. That's what Sansa was planning to do after Jon's wedding to Ygritte tomorrow: walk it off. 

Through another country. 

"Uh, do you want something to drink? A towel? Some vodka or something?"

"All of the above," he said. 

She nodded and started for the linen closet. Jon grabbed her hand. "Wait," he muttered. 

She turned and faced him, his hand gripping hers hard. "Do you want to know why I'm here?" he asked softly. 

He was coiled tight with tension. The kind of tension that made her feel a bit like prey. 

"I do," she said. "And I'm sure you're going to tell me in your own time."

His eyes practically glowed with intent as he looked at her. "I can't marry Ygritte, Sansa. I broke it off. I ended it. I told her I can't do it. I don't love her."

Sansa sucked in a breath, and tried to remember to breathe. "How did she take it? And when did you do it? Before or after the wedding rehearsal?"

"After the rehearsal, but before dinner." His grip tightened. "I was standing there in front of the priest going through the steps of what I would be doing tomorrow and watching Ygritte walk toward me...and I just...I felt terrified."

"Cold feet?" _Shut up, Sansa._

He shook his head. "No. It was the realization that tomorrow I would be vowing to spend the rest of my life with someone I didn't love."

"You didn't think of this maybe when you were planning to propose?"

"No, I was too busy thinking I needed something to fill the void you left when we broke up."

She heaved another trembling sigh. 

"I love you," he whispered. "I never stopped. I don't think I ever will. I can't marry her when the only person I can imagine spending the rest of my life with is you. Even if you don't want me. Even if we just keep it platonic. I'd rather be your friend and keep you close than lose you completely. And I know...Robb told me you were planning on going backpacking through Europe after tomorrow."

She nodded. "Got my ticket and everything."

"I can't ask you not to go--"

"Yes, you can," she said quickly. "You can totally ask me."

His whole countenance softened; he looked hopeful. "I can?"

She smiled and nodded. "Go ahead. Ask me not to go. Ask me not to go because you'd rather spend the day with me reconnecting. Preferably in bed, but I won't be greedy."

He moved closer, so quick she gasped. His hands found their familiar place on her hips and he got in close, real close. She could feel his breath on her face. "Sansa," he rasped. "Don't go to Europe. Spend the day with me in bed tomorrow, reconnecting--"

"That's not really asking, Jon," she teased, even as tears of relief and joy sprang to her eyes. "That's telling--"

"Shut up," he whispered and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, and it wasn't until they broke apart that she realized he was crying too. 

"I love you," he said hoarsely. "I love you so much, San."

"That works out well then, because I love you too."

He kissed her again, and then swooped her up in his arms as though she was his bride, and carried her to the bedroom.


End file.
